Around and Around We Go

 It is Thursday, and my first thought is Why is the summer going so fast?

My second is How will I ever get everything accomplished I need to do?

Because I'm tired.

We had 3 doctor appointments in two days. Jim is worn to a frazzle. I'm getting there myself.

There are many things I've been planning to write here, but I have not found the time or energy to follow through. I will, of course. But probably not today.

I've set small goals for myself for today, but even those are starting to feel like too much.

So I'm backing off and following through on three things I committed to already -- going to a yoga class, getting myself sushi for lunch, and taking more books to Annette in Bonita Springs.

**

I've been committed to getting reading done as well, and yesterday I finished the Nick Cave book. He has some quotes that I recorded in my velvet book. When I got to the end, he had something to say that I knew I want to record here so I have it always. I feel it speaks to what happens here on this blog -- I go around and around with the same thoughts, learning lessons over and over. It often feels like I'm not really getting anywhere, which is why his final words had so much power to me.

Well, read the quote and see what you think:

Stumbling forward is a beautiful way of putting it, but I wonder if the notion of forwardness is correct. Perhaps what I mean to say is that although we feel we are moving in a forward direction, in my estimation we are forever moving in a circular way, with all the things we love and remember in tow, and carrying all our needs and yearnings and hurts along with us, and all the people who have poured themselves into us and made us what we are, and all the ghosts who travel with us. It's like we are running towards God, but that God's love is also the wind that is pushing us on, as both the impetus and the destination, and it resides in both the living and the dead. Around and around we go, encountering the same things, again and again, but within this movement things happen that change us, annihilate us, shift our relationship to the world. It is this circular motion that grows more essential and affirming and necessary with each turn.

Sun Up to Sun Down

 Modeled from David Whyte’s poem “Kayak VI.”

When the mind lets go at last

I just do what needs to be done

After years of keeping my own schedule

I am now on another

And in each wave

The days go quickly

I read and write and sometimes nap

But it never feels like enough

In my arms

I bear the meals and shopping

The cleaning and maintenance

The household concerns

In my voice

I keep the tenderness within measure

Although it isn’t always easy

Demands are increasing

Even here

Going through our days together

Still has its magic, sun up to sun down

Others look to find us

What do they see?

An old married couple

Making the best

Of the life that’s left

The Contenders

Digging through a box of things I brought from school, I unearthed this book.

It was a signal to me of something that happened near the end of school which I meant to write about.

I first became aware of this book The Contender by Robert Lipsyte when I worked at Lehigh Senior High. I think it was when I taught sophomores it was one of the choices in our Literature Circles.

My second year at Cypress Lake Middle found me teaching struggling readers, many of whom were kids of color and had no real reading habits. At the time we had 84 minute periods, and I tried my best to have them read their self-selected books and have meaningful discussions. But if you ever tried to do that, you will know how difficult it can be.

That's when I decided to teach a novel, and I thought of The Contender. My friend Susan from Lehigh brought me the books. They are still at CLMS today. The books are falling apart from use, because I taught this book several times over the years. But I just can't trash them, no matter what. The novel has a place in my heart.

The story takes place in the 1960s, and the main character is a black teenager named Alfred. He has dropped out of high school and is aimless, working at a grocery store and pretty much just hanging around with his druggie friend James. Somehow Alfred decides he wants to be a boxer, and takes a chance on learning how. This novel has a passage where Alfred crosses the street at a green light, races up several flights of steps, level to level, and then arrives at the boxing studio. 

 A faint light leaked through a crack, and he hurled himself up to it, paused, took another breath, and plunged into a large, murky room.

"Yeah?" A short, stocky man with crew-cut white hair looked up. His pale face was smooth and hard.

"I...I'm...I'm Albert Brooks," he said, gasping. "I come...to be...a fighter."

His apprehension is palatable, and it is one of my favorite all time passages to teach. There is so much to unpack, not the least the symbol of the green light telling him it was okay to push himself to take this step.

Essentially, the book is about making yourself ready for whatever is to come...and friendship. Great themes for my learners.

**

This year in my first block class I had a black boy names Sam, a kind, hard-working kid. He consistently did well, and was liked by everyone. Late in the year I got a new (white) boy -- Grayson -- from another middle school in the area. He came in and got right to work on the Titanic project and did an exceptional job. I was quite impressed with him. I didn't really know why he left his other school halfway through 4th quarter, but I know there were reasons.

Well, one day I had something laid out on the table for the students to pick up, and when Grayson got to the table he took both hands and shoved Sam down. Fortunately, there was a chair there to catch Sam, otherwise he would have gone right down to the floor. The look on Sam's face -- he was stunned. I was stunned as well.

I wrote a referral and got Grayson out of the class. 

Later, my AP came by and started asking me questions about it. I told her it was so unusual and unexpected, I didn't know what to make of it. She said she'd talk to both boys. I said I'd call the dad.

When talking to dad, who had a messy divorce and shared custody with Grayson's mom, I learned of health issues and a certain medication that might have lead Grayson to act in some kind of violent way. Mrs. George, my AP, talked to the boys who both said they are friends. Sam expressed how surprised he was by Grayson's action. Secretly, I had been concerned it was a black/white thing, but thankfully this didn't seem to be the case. Everything was fine after that.

**

In The Contender, Albert's trainer is a man named Donatelli. This is his response when Albert says he wants to be a champion:

Everybody wants to be a champion. That's not enough. You have to start by wanting to be a contender, the man coming up, the man who knows there's a good chance he'll never get to the top, the man who's willing to sweat and bleed to get up as high as his legs and his brains and his heart will take him...It's the climbing that makes the man. Getting to the top is an extra reward.

**

The second last day of school, I randomly decided to pull out a couple of The Contender books from the bin, a couple that weren't falling apart. I decided I wanted to gift them to a couple of students.

I chose Sam and Grayson.

I pulled them each over individually and told them I saw them as contenders. Neither knew what that was, but once I explained, they understood. I explained to each of them I saw them as someone who had a good shot at being a champion at whatever they decided to do. Sam didn't show much reaction. Grayson was very grateful I saw him that way, and he let me know that. I could tell he was touched.

There was a small concern I had that Sam was perhaps annoyed that I gave him, the only black student in the class, a book with a black boy on the cover.Turned out that should not have been a concern at all. 

On the last day the kids don't bring backpacks of much of anything to school. But there was Sam with the book in his hand. It was like he couldn't let it go. We were doing various games and activities and in between he'd have his nose back in the book. He was well into it, and noticeably gobbling it up. 

It did my heart good. It helped me know I made the right choice.

Side by Side

In the Nick Cave book, he mentions how some things are prescient. His example was an album (Skeleton Tree) he wrote before his son died, and how in retrospect many of the songs seem to be about what happened to his son. People often think he wrote the album in response, but it was the opposite.

That struck me because at the end of December and early January, I had similar experiences. There seemed to be forces pushing me to do things I wouldn’t normally do, and I didn’t know why.

Here is one example. I went shopping for my friend Amy’s birthday gifts, and then was in CVS looking at reader glasses. I realized I needed a card for Amy, so went to that department. It was early January, but they already had the Valentine’s Day cards displayed.

Jim and I had stopped exchanging cards long ago, and we haven’t done much to celebrate Valentine’s Day in years. Yet, I saw this card and picked it up. I decided to buy it, even though I don’t particularly care for swans. It seems prescient now, because this card states what this year seems to be about—being side by side through our toughest experiences. And if I hadn’t bought the card that day, I probably would not have even thought to get him one, since that fell off my radar years ago, and things were feeling pretty insane in February. It felt good to have it to give to him.

We’ve been through a lot, Jim and I. And the best part is we do it together. The card sits on the bar by our sink as a continuous reminder, not only of our love, but of the mysterious forces that guide us.

In Dreams (for Dad’s 95th)

Today would be my dad’s 95th birthday, and coincidentally I came across some items related to him this week that were of interest…some I remembered, some I had forgotten.

I have been working through purging a lot of things, and the journals and notebooks I have stockpiled here were a good starting point. This brought me to a journal I started in 2006 I designated as a “synchronicity” journal. I believe it was a gift from my friend Pam, or perhaps just the idea was hers.

The journal begins by detailing events that seem to synchronize together, but very quickly that focus drops off. Apparently, then I started going through one of my morning journals from 1993 looking for important things to write down. That is when I came across these notations:

My dad said to me “You are a strong presence in our family.” February 1, 1993

My dad tells me that Richie, Uncle Frank, his dad, and Grandma Maslyk came to him in his dreams. February 3, 1993

 I really do not remember him telling me these things, or why he did. What were we talking about that would have prompted these statements? Were we alone, or were others present? I really don’t know.

The journal then changes directions to documenting a meditation practice I had. The two notations above are the only things worth keeping. 

Then I came across this little velvet book.

The book is small, 4” x 6” and I’m sure I used to carry it with me. (My father was also a carrier of small notebooks.) It has a lot of quotes and notations to start it off, some little drawings, and comments my friend Carol made when we’d walk in the Cuyahoga Valley. A few items do include dates, all in 1997. 

Then it shifts to 1998 with these three notes. These are already seared in my memory:

A butterfly erratically flew into me while I walked in the woods the morning of the day my father died.

“Helen, I am taking instructions from the Big Guy and His Holy Host of Angels.” (This was 2 hours before he passed on May 31, 1998)

“Will you come to the park and talk to me, that pretty little park in Lakewood.” (My father speaking to me in a vivid dream in the early hours of June 13, 1998)

I have clear memories of all three of these.They are always with me.

I’ve decided to keep the velvet book, and I have moved the quotes from the first journal into it. I want to continue to put little quotes and important things to remember in this velvet book, because a long time ago I made a good start, and now I want to keep it going. I plan on writing more on this blog about the other treasures found in the velvet book.

**

I went looking for a picture of my dad from 1993, and there were only a couple. I decided to include this one from the Christmas season with his granddaughters Emily, Kim, Cheryl, and Kate.

Happy Birthday, Dad. We love and miss you. Thanks for sending messages my way, in all the forms they take.

I go back to June 1994…

I’m reading a novel called Factory Girls that begins in June 1994 in Northern Ireland. Since the chapters are the dates of the events in the book, it caused me to think of where I was in June 1994. I realized it was our second visit to the cabin in North Carolina, the one built and owned by Jim’s Aunt Joanne and Uncle Dick. Eventually it would become a home away from home, a real sanctuary. But this was just the second visit.

At this time of year, wild rhododendrons bloom in the Blue Ridge mountains, and Roan Mountain in Tennessee is most famous for these flowering bushes. Every year on this weekend they have a festival, and this is where we went that June weekend in 1994. Roan Mountain was about 90 minutes or so from Ashe Country, so it made a nice day trip.

The walk through the woods and up the mountain was not terribly difficult, although I’m sure Joanne and Dick didn’t climb to the top as Jim and I did. At the time I had a nice Minolta camera, and tried my best to photograph the flowers, but it seemed hard to get results. I think the day had leaned toward rain and haze, so the clarity wasn’t there.

Eventually, Jim and I got to the top and I took this picture. It was the only one that had any clarity of the sky and the valley below. 

All in all, it is a pleasant memory—a day spent with people I deeply love. I became closer to Joanne and Dick as the years went on, closer than I was to any of my aunts and uncles. I bless the day they came into my life because it made it so much richer.

 http://www.roanmountain.com/rhododendron-festival/

The Way I Remember You

 Dear Wayne,

Yesterday I unexpectedly found this photo of you I did not even remember existed.

 It’s from June 1994.

You are holding Danny’s daughter Heather.

I showed your dad. He looked at you a long time, but had no words.

I am aware I have not written about you, memories and all.

Still so difficult knowing you’re gone. 

So this is a step.

For you, my son.

Just Allow

I had so many plans on what I would write today.

Then I took Jim for some bloodwork, and in the car he expressed a 

great deal of anger about having to get tests and keep appointments, 

when it is so difficult for him to just get out of the house.

After having my anger moment last week,

I knew I had to just allow him this rage.

When back home, we talked about it.

We thought about what things can be canceled.

I told him he is the one who needs to decide when enough is enough.

When his quality of life is suffering too much.

His anger is good because it will help point the way.

His face relaxed.

I learned last week about joy, grief, and anger.

I told him that he has a right to be angry.

That what has happened sucks.

That he is trying to protect himself and me because of LOVE.

I have already run a million scenarios through my head.

And I know that I really don’t know what actually will happen.

But I know enough to allow what is.

To listen with empathy and understanding,

and respond with an open heart to his life path,

not for what I think is best for me.

I know there is no cure to any of this.

But I know healing is always possible.

 

First Day of Summer

 

No, I wasn’t at the beach sipping drinks and watching dolphins. But yesterday did feel like the first day of summer to me.

Usually when school gets out, I crash for several days just doing a lot of nothing. This year I didn’t have that luxury. There had been so many things waiting to be done once school was out, I got right to it.

Yesterday, even with one short appointment to get Jim to, I decided was my day. I went to the library, got two short novels I’ve been wanting to read, and started one of them. We made our dinner for lunch and watched Remembering Gene Wilder on Netflix. (If you are a fan, I highly recommend.) I took a nap. I did a few other things which were not pre-planned…just things I felt like doing. Made wings for dinner, watched MASH, and read until I couldn’t keep my eyes open.

Today Jim has a breathing test, and there are some things I want to purge. So, back to business as usual, I guess. 😆

But it was sure nice to have that day. I promise myself another one…and soon! 

Another Reminder

Reading Parker Palmer’s essay “A Wilderness Pilgrimage,” I came across this thought:

Watching wilderness overcome devastation has helped me see how suffering can serve as a seedbed for renewal. Even more, it has offered reassurance that in the great cycle of life and death, new life always gets the last word.

This serves to remind me of the power of nature, and the spirit that animates it all. Nothing is without purpose. I know I ebb and flow on this idea here in my writings…but I always know it is the highest truth, even when I seem to forget.

Right now, I’m better at letting things be and taking care of myself. It is easier because Jim is feeling good. I will take him for his labs and then take the rest of the day for myself. It seems like the best use of a summer Tuesday. 💚

Monday Morning Gratitudes

 First…the sunrise today.

I am grateful for all the friends who reached out this weekend. Thank you X a million.

I am grateful we are starting to get a handle on what we will do in case of a hurricane. That has been a relief.

I am grateful Jim woke up feeling better. The last few days were rough from the chemo, but he seems to have recovered. 😊

I am grateful my energy has returned and I’m getting things done around here. I’m taking it easy on myself, and am committed to doing things at a pace that works for me.

Along with that thought, I have decided to abandon reading One Hundred Years of Solitude. There are just too many other books I think I will enjoy more. Going to get on with that! Grateful for so many books! 

Seven years ago today is when I had one of my favorite concert experiences in a Tennessee cave called The Bluegrass Underground. I am grateful for the times Jim and I had traveling to places that matter to us. Nothing will ever take away those memories.

Wholeness (acrostic)

 

Wholeness is already

Here, waiting to be recognized. I

Only have to turn away from thoughts that

Limit this truth.

Everything has a season and it

Not only serves me, it enhances my life in

Ever changing and surprising ways.

So today I invite in what is already there.

So today I recognize wholeness as the essence of the art of being.

***

(Inspired by reading “A Season of Paradox” by Parker J. Palmer)

Another Day, Another Retelling

 I have two long time favorite columnists from Cleveland. They are Connie Schultz and Regina Brett. They are both inspiring to me as women, as writers, and as people who deeply plumb their experiences and put them in words.

A bit over a week ago, Connie quoted musician Nick Cave in something she put on Facebook. She now writes for Substack and teaches writing at a university in Ohio.When she quoted Cave, she mentioned that she had been told about his book Faith, Hope and Carnage from sister writer Regina Brett.

So, of course, I had to check out the book for myself. 

To be clear, I've never listened to Nick Cave's music. I guess he's from Australia and was kind of post-punk? I don't know. All I know is that what Connie posted got my curiosity up.

The local library had the book, and I've been working my way through it. It is a conversation, not a memoir. And it is full of beauty and awareness and the power of writing music and being a human being who grieves. (Cave's 15-year-old son died falling off a cliff.)

There are many things I want to share about what I've been reading, because some stuff is really sticking with me. I plan to just take one at a time. Today, it is this quote that begins on page 68. 

We should never underestimate that sense of being in the groove of life, of moving from one situation to another with the wind at your back, of being purposeful and valuable, of life having some semblance of order. It's really something, that feeling, made all the more profound because you know how transitory and easily broken it is. It seems to me, life is mostly spent putting ourselves back together. But hopefully in new and interesting ways. For me that is what the creative process is, for sure. It is the act of retelling the story of our lives so that it makes sense.

This week has been one of trying to get my bearings in what feels like a different life in many aspects. What “I am” has appeared to change. But yesterday, after a text conversation with my friend Kate, I realized who I am is not different. It’s the things I’m feeling that are different—feeling I haven’t had before that grow, change, and take me by surprise.

As a caretaker now, I realize that naming my feelings is essential to staying in a loving mode. I did that yesterday, and hope to do so going forward. Doing that helped me make a few decisions yesterday that needed to be made, and set me on a path forward to accomplish some things around here. I had been blocked. There is some relief now.

I kept thinking to be creative I needed to find a way to do something different. But right now, I’m creating a new life seemingly every day depending on the needs around here. As usual, it comes back to the present moment and knowing that in that place, all is well.

I was trying to figure out how to wrap this all up, and came upon this. I will let George have the last word.

It’s being here now that is most important. There’s no past and there’s no future. Time is a very misleading thing. All there is ever is the now. We can gain experience from the past, but we can’t relive it; and we can hope for the future, but we don’t know if there is one.

 

 

Joy, Grief, Anger

 Recently I decided to get some stuff out of the guest room closet I knew I didn't need. I came across this framed quote:

I knew I should remember who said this, but I had to search it up. It was Julian of Norwich.

In case you don't know her, this is a general description: Julian of Norwich (1342-c.1416) is known to us almost only through her book, The Revelations of Divine Love, which is widely acknowledged as one of the great classics of the spiritual life. She is thought to have been the first woman to write a book in English which has survived.

She is quoted most often for her comforting words: All will be well, all will be well, in all manner of things will be well.

I  have been reading the framed quote aloud to myself since I discovered it. I do it to remind myself that all is, indeed, well in the general scheme of things. But, of course, I'm not exactly feeling that.

Here is a journal entry I wrote.

**

Today I had quite a journey while doing my daily reading/journaling. It began when I was reading Parker Palmer's essay called "Confessing My Complicity." Here is my entry for today:

I haven't finished reading yet but BAM -- these words hit:

Anger isn't the problem. The problem is getting hooked on anger -- addicted to an emotion that gives you a fleeting high but leaves you feeling worse, all the while robbing you of well-being and creating desire for the next hit. Being hooked saps me of energy and harms my health...it diverts me from taking personal responsibility for what is going on right now.

I had all the signs that anger was lurking and I ignored them. Yesterday it evolved into a crying jag and yelling and giving in to my deepest fears.

And to what end? Only felt a little better, but doubt it actually helped.

I AM ANGRY JIM IS ILL.

Yes, I am. I never say that, do I?

I AM ANGRY MY LIFE IS CHANGING IN WAYS I CAN'T CONTROL.

I AM ANGRY THERE ARE SO MANY THINGS TO ATTEND TO ALL THE TIME AND I AM NOW ON MY OWN WITH THEM.

I AM ANGRY ABOUT WHAT IS COMING NEXT SCHOOL YEAR.

I AM ANGRY AT MYSELF FOR LOSING FAITH, FOR NOT BELIEVING IN MIRACLES.

~~~~Phew~~~~

Yesterday two things came up in Facebook memories I needed. One was a quote from Carlos Santana:

If you believe in gravity and drop something a hundred times, a hundred times it's going to fall. But if you believe in grace as you believe in gravity, then a hundred out of a hundred times you're going to get a miracle.

It was followed up by this quote from Regina Brett:

Don't give up before the miracle as there may be more than one.

I read more Parker and he included a quote from Valarie Kaur (founder of the Revolutionary Love Project):

Joy is the gift of love. Grief is the price of love. Anger is the force that protects that which is loved.

This! I have focused on joy and I've acknowledged grief, but I have not allowed anger to show me its force.

I FEEL PROTECTIVE.

Getting Jim safely places. Keeping myself safe so I am there for him. Running interference on procedures and appointments. Keeping everything in the house we need. And secretly being terrified about another hurricane. How can I keep him safe?

I AM ANGRY THIS HAS HAPPENED TO HIM!

And this is why Julian keeps showing up. She is the one who said it's harder to see a loved one suffering than to suffer yourself.

I had pulled out my Julian meditation book yesterday, and now I pulled out her classic Revelations of Love. I feel it is time to read it -- perhaps all the way through. 

Thinking of this further, I can see that while school was on I could shift my anger to stuff there. I didn't have to confront it here at home. That is why these past two weeks have felt so difficult -- this anger was floating around and I didn't have a place for it.

After journaling, I spoke with Jim about this. We figured out a couple small things together and agreed that the last four years have been a barrage of devastating events: Jim's stroke, the pandemic, his eye issue that resulted in blindness, his brother Doug passing, his son Dan passing, the two cancer diagnoses and subsequent treatments, Hurricane Ian, the cancer and COPD diagnoses, and the loss of his son Wayne.

And that leads me back to Valarie's words:

Joy is the gift of love.

Grief is the price of love.

Anger is the force that protects that which is loved.

Use it wisely!

Gratitude for Journals

In cleaning up my classroom, I dug several journals out of my large drawer where I keep my purse. I brought two of them home to read.

The first one I read was from the 2021-22 school year, and it was a horror story. That was the year I started teaching Read 180 and the kids were a mess. Daily I felt abused by their constant use of the F word and their attempts to gaslight and insult me. I came close to quitting. It was horrible.

There were some hopeful things as the year went on, but when I was done reading I knew I didn't want this around me anymore. I tossed that toxin in the trash.

Then I found this notebook that Annmarie had given me. I used it as a gratitude journal starting with the 2017-18 school year.

 

After reading the other journal, this one was pure delight. I kept up with it pretty well throughout the school year, and it continues into 2018-19 and then picks up in January 2021 until the end of that school year.

I have ways of remembering these years, and this book confirmed much of what I recall. I was teaching things I believed in, including creative writing and speech & debate. I was reaching the kids with great activities, and I was keeping myself balanced in many ways. I had some successes that were noted, and I was working with my teacher friends to present at ASCD in the summer of 2019. I had a decent planning period I often was grateful for, as it allowed me to really dig in and create great lessons.

The 2021 part was a bit different, as that was the year I was hybrid teaching. I was experimenting with the Modern Classrooms method -- so different than anything I’d done in previous years -- and discovering the ups and downs with it. I didn't care for how that year sidetracked things, but at the same time, it was a tremendous learning experience.

I couldn't help comparing to this last school year, where my planning was reduced and not at the best time of day for me, and many of my plannings were spent covering other classes. I have already trained myself to NOT count of my planning. How sad is that?

Even worse, this coming year I will have another teacher in my room during planning. I will no longer have that time as a sanctuary from kids and noise. I am trying so hard not to fret about that, but I still am. Going to another room is not the answer.

I know I have to think differently about this and not make predetermination. But what I do know -- and this gratitude journal confirmed -- is that there are things that feed me as a teacher, and little by little they have been chipped away. I want to be able to see this as adventure, to tell myself a new story, to allow myself to piece it together. All I can do is promise myself to do my best.

But I am also aware, like I found with the first journal I read, that some things are just poison and may have a negative affect. I am keeping my options open. Stay tuned.

Just an Arms Length Away

Today is a dark, gloomy, rainy day. It is starting to affect me in ways I don't like.

I took Jim to the dermatologist this morning because of a concerning spot on his forehead. Doc doesn't think it is anything, but did a biopsy. We were told to make a follow-up in 6 months.

And I had this thought as they made the appointment for the day after Christmas. Will he make it to this appointment?

Once we were home, and my anxiety was rising, I knew that perhaps if I came to my old computer to write some blog posts, I would be giving myself a good opportunity to feel better. But instead, I thought of things I shouldn't be thinking, and I started to cry. I thought of talking to Jim about it, but he had already said how tired he was. He woke at 3:30 a.m. and was unable to get back to sleep.

And then, hiding behind some papers and notebooks, I found this:

It is polished heart-shaped rock my friend Annmarie sent me when the shutdown happened and I had to suddenly teach from home. When it arrived, I put it by the computer, and that is where it has been ever since.

I picked up the stone and immediately my heart felt lifted. The tears stopped flowing. I cannot express the calm and peace I that swept over me. It had been just an arms length away.

Chemo #6

Today we went in earlier than usual for Jim’s chemo/immunotherapy treatment. There was a newbie there, reminding me of when we first started, something like 16 weeks ago.

This is how I set Jim up while they are finishing doing his labs. First, we have Jerry the dog. This is a plush my sister gave me years ago, and she was the one who mentioned that Jim needs the companion t the sessions. When I first brought it along, Jim said it reminded him of a dog they had as a kid—a Dalmatian named Jerry, who was female despite the spelling of the name. I bring Jerry for Jim, but I think I need her more. Now I’m even saying things to it like, “Wanna go for a ride in the car?” And “Good dog.”  🤣🤣

We have found hydration is one of the main keys, so we buy Gatorlyte by the case now and he drinks plenty of it. And protein is the other must-have. We have started tracking how things he eats and drinks cause reactions, like extra exhaustion or drop in blood pressure. 

His last chemo reaction lasted three days, a new record. I don’t anticipate it will get any better going forward. We are just treasuring all of our time together, and I remain committed to sitting with him every chemo session. It feels like the least I can do.

Learning to Read

I purchased this book years ago at a used book store, and every summer I vow to read it. But until Friday, I had not read a word.

I finally ventured into this novel on Friday, and returned to it yesterday. It was around page 50 when the frustration set in. Like, what the heck is going on? I considered abandoning the book, but went looking for advice instead.

This is a common problem for people reading this Nobel Prize winning novel, I discovered. Someone had encountered the same issue as me, and asked about it on a GoodReads forum. There I found a lot of useful advice:

—Don’t look for plot. This is a telling of a family through time.

—Read it like it’s a dream.

—Don’t try to keep track of the characters, many that have identical names. Just enjoy each little story.

—It’s like stream of consciousness. Relax into it. It will pay off.

—Watch how often Marquez uses the words “solitude” and “solitary.”

—If it bothers you, don’t read it. Life is too short to spend reading books you don’t like.

It’s not like I haven’t read Latin American literature or magical realism before. But this Marquez book is clearly something else. I was looking for experience like I’ve had with other literary classics, like when I finally read The Color Purple in 2020, or The Grapes of Wrath in 2022. But I didn’t expect I’d have to learn how to approach it. That’s a new one on me! 

I’ve decided to continue, but I let myself off the hook as far as how fast I will read it. Some said they had read it off and on for a year. It is that type of book for sure. 

What I’m not sure of is reading it before bed. I read several pages last night before turning off the light, and I had crazy dreams all night! I actually felt it was disruptive. So maybe I still need to learn how to read this book.

Challenge accepted.

Sunday Seeking Peace

It’s a muggy morning with zero breeze. I had vowed to get out and walk, to connect with Mother Nature, and wasn’t going to let the weather stop me.

I’m glad I kept my vow.  I walked the bridge area to the woods. The Ibis were roosting and it was obviously mating season, as there were many bright displays.

I stopped at a bench that was calling to me. I was thinking a lot about lyrics to a song from yesterday: “Peace will come.” I meditated for a short time on the bench on those words, then took this picture:

Don’t you just love cloud reflections?

I walked into the wooded area and had this thought: why am I saying peace will come? Peace is now.

Then I saw this plaque next to a bench, something I had not seen before:

I smiled at myself. What else do I need? I have the present moment. I walked, touching all the palm fronds along the path, reaching for waxy leaves and feathery vines. A cache of butterflies fluttered over my head. I was sweaty and mosquito-bitten when I returned to my car, but no matter.  I had kept my promise and was reminded once more that being one with nature is all it’s cracked up to be!

For Example, Friday

I’d been wanting to write a poem all week, and finally got inspired by David Kirby’s poem “The Rhetorical Device Known as What-Aboutery.”

…it takes a while to get from where

you are to where you want to be, especially 

if you don’t know where you’re going in the first place,

which you shouldn’t, as the scientists

 say, if you know what you’re doing, it isn’t research.

Discovery

What if I was to truly open my mind 

to what could be discovered each day 

without judgment on my part?

For example, Friday.

A routine eye appointment for Jim turned long

Hemorrhaging in the eye

Causing an afternoon at another doctor

Trying to get it under control

And I stayed focused on what mattered.

I discovered I could 

read my book 

relax into just being

I had been contemplating what fun is in my life.

So I decided picking up a book 

I’ve meant to read for years would be fun 

and making dinner — a joy.

I’m discovering a moment holds a lot of mini-happiness.

In a book I just finished there was a great line:

Happiness is circulatory.

Someone else said fun leads to happiness, not the other way around.

Fun being playfulness + communication + flow.

So there is the recipe.

Will I ever say the day Jim’s eye 

hemorrhaged was a FUN day?

No, probably not.

Will I say I flowed through it 

and discovered a calm around it?

Yes, that I can say.

It’s my own research into the 

art of being.

I go back to the summer of 1984…

It started quite by accident. The movie Footloose is on Netflix, and since I had never seen it, I decided to watch. It took me back to the time when nearly every song on the soundtrack was a big hit, there was no internet or compact discs in our world. Boomboxes with cassettes were prominent in the movie.

Then June 4 came, and I heard it was the anniversary of the release of the album Born in the U.S.A. by Bruce Springsteen. That was all it took. 1984 had a hold on me!

It was my first summer living with Jim at his house in Macedonia, Ohio, halfway between Cleveland and Akron. The home had three quarters of an acre of land and an above ground swimming pool. It was a great place for entertaining.

The Springsteen album was our standard background music. The house was a split level, and we could put the stereo speakers in the windows and blast it outside. I know there was plenty of other music we played, but this album is the one I remember best. 

This essay isn’t about the album so much as remembering the people and a couple of events the summer I was turning 29. I dug out a few pictures I have that represent summer weekends at our home, and a couple other related items.

First, check out my office at Freeman Manufacturing where I was the credit and collections manager. The picture was rather dark and taken with a crappy camera, so I adjusted as best I could. I got a real kick out of the seeing the computer. What a lunky box!

I had a couple of friends at work —Jeannie and Arlene—and one Saturday they came and hung out at the pool.

On the 4th of July we had a pool party for friends. It was mostly people from our work places with others sprinkled in. The weather wasn’t super, but the pool volleyball happened anyway.

On my 29th birthday, my friends from work took me to a bar/restaurant called Pickle Bills which was on the Cuyahoga River in the Flats, an up and coming entertainment area. At the time, singing telegrams were popular, and my friends paid to have some Tarzan guy come and sing to me and tell jokes. It was crazy fun, although frankly, he was a tad creepy. (Jim and I had celebrated over the weekend because he played golf on Mondays.)

To finish off this little walk down memory lane, I’m including a video of the Springsteen song from the 1984 album that has stood the test of time with me. I won’t say the summer days of 1984 were exactly “glory days,” but they did represent a certain time in my life where I was enjoying the results of decisions I had made a couple years earlier. Everything felt new and exciting, and so in that aspect, there was a touch of glory!

Turtle

It’s a New Moon, and I have pulled the Turtle card. I feel the message here is appropriate for where I am right now, and so I am documenting here for reference. Overall it’s about right use of energy, connecting with nature, and staying grounded and grateful.

Maybe some of this will speak to my readers.

Turtle is the personification of Goddess energy

Turtle teaches how to use protection

Honor the creative source in you, be grounded, observe with compassion

Use earth and water energies to flow harmoniously with your situation and place your feet firmly on the ground

In learning to ground, you are placing focus on your thoughts and actions and slowing to a pace that assures completion

Don’t “push the river”

Develop your ideas before bringing to light

Connect to the power of Mother Earth

Use her energy to aid you, and you will be healed enough to share this energy with others

You are not a victim, and you are not helpless, in your present situation

From a grateful heart, look for the abundance of alternatives that Mother Earth gives

Wolf Revisited

About a month ago I wrote about Wolf Medicine. I applied it as well as I could to my last few weeks of school. As a reminder, here were the suggestions:

Expand your limited view of the present situation

Look and new ideas—delete old ideas

In the discovery and rediscovery of every inch of ground comes the knowledge that nothing remains the same

Wolf is urging you to seek teachers and pathfinders that will show the way to new life experiences

The teacher can be a small still voice inside, a person, a leaf, a cloud, a stone, a tree, a book, or the Great Spirit

Take up the sense of adventure

After Monday’s shock to my system, I knew I had to correct my thinking. I have started reading Think Again by Adam Grant and it is helping me see I’ve caused my own distress by being married to certain ideas. Things are changing and I can dig in or I can discover new ways of being.

Coming back to Wolf, I see I have to delete old ideas and welcome in new ones. I do have a limited view on what makes me a satisfied and productive teacher —a view that already has been altered by my forced absences this past semester. (I’ve always thought I need to be there…but the kids thrived anyway, I had to find new ways to make that happen.)

Of course, I’d like my final year to be perfect…but it was never going to be that way. Now it presents challenges that will force me to rethink how I do my job, how I run my classes. 

This is not a bad thing.

Tomorrow is the New Moon, and I will enter a new medicine phase. Meanwhile, I thank Wolf for pointing the way and helping me see that clinging to old ideas is never healthy or helpful.

On to a new adventure!

Believe

 Finalizing cleaning up my desk yesterday, I found this little card:

I had several of these I gave to students, but somehow this one never made its way to anyone. These cards pop open with a message. Staring at it there on my desk, I decided I’d open to see what it had to tell me. After all, there must be a reason this was still sitting there, right.

I knew right away I needed this message. And sure enough, at 11:00 I went to a meeting about what life will be like getting ready to move into portables and how the campus will be set up and how I’ll have someone in my room teaching during my planning and other depressing news. I came home sad, frustrated, and wondering why I just didn’t plan on retiring this year. 

As usual, my overdrive brain wanted to fix the situation into a frame I could digest. But it was too soon, and I just felt exhausted by the effort.

The best decision right now is no decision. I will relax and spend time with Jim and pray for direction. 

Oh yes…and BELIEVE in this message. The focus always has to be listening for direction. I will know what to do and when to do it. 

It’s the Little Things

A few months back, I discovered a band out of Oregon called Kristin Grainger and True North. They are contemporary folk, and I enjoy their music. It's wonderful for my coffee and journaling time.

A song that catches my attention each time is one written by one of the guys in the band. "It's the Little Things" is a sweet tune, and always brings me back to what is most important to remember about life every single day.

The end of the school year snuck up on me quickly, and even though I thought about it, I never put a year end survey in front of my kids. I like doing that because it gives me feedback on how they saw the class and felt about their learning. I usually get some good feedback about my teaching as well.

And here is where the "little things" started showing up, unbidden. A girl came to me with a little piece of art.

Another handed me a butterfly sticker that said “Teach Love Inspire." One did a coloring page and wrote Thank You, Ms. Sadler and gave it to me. I received some handwritten cards. I had kids walking by me on the last day calling out goodbyes, stopping for hugs, and saying things like, "I loved the class" and "best teacher ever."

These comments, planned or spontaneous, made me feel good. They are small things, but they matter.

As it says in the song below: Little things stay around / While the big things wear down

The school year may be over, but these moments live on.

Take a few minutes and listen to this live version of "It's the Little Things."

Begin Again (journal entry)

 

Now that school is ending, I find myself drifting into fearful thoughts. I know it, yet it keeps happening.

I fear the loss of my husband.

I fear the loss of my career.

I fear a future uncertain -- even as early as August.

Just saying this makes my chest tighten up.

Today I read in Parker Palmer's book his essay called "Begin Again." Within his reflection on "beginner's mind," he included a poem written by Wendell Berry for another poet named Hayden Carruth. This part near the end really hit me:

I greet you at the beginning, for we are

either beginning or we are dead. And let us have

no careers, lest one day we be found dead in them.

I greet you at the beginning that you have made

authentically in your art, again and again.

 

 

BEGIN AGAIN to live ARTFULLY.

I have to stop thinking about THE END. That is where my fear lies.

In my best days, I'm aware there is a life ahead of me I cannot even imagine.

I have to keep reminding myself, because I get caught up short. Like the other day driving home from work. I had heard wonderful stories of people 20-30 years younger than I am making career moves and changes. It caused feelings of sadness for myself that those kinds of days are over for me. 

But again -- in my best days I know there can always be a surprise waiting, something I cannot see now from where I stand.

I have to believe.

And my chest loosens up at these words.

***

I don't keep a good walking schedule, so today I decided to begin again. I took a walk around the neighborhood on a relatively cool morning. I went with the intention of looking for signs of new beginnings. Nowhere was it more prominent than in the palm trees. Everywhere I looked, the trees had new shoots rising from the top, a sure sign that life goes on for the tree. New beginnings. New attitudes. Growth, possibility, and life.

Nature never fails to support us, does it?